Splintered Destiny
by BriefShiningMoment
Summary: "Arthur Pendragon," he sneered. "You've always been told how magic was evil. You never knew how true that could be." Camelot has to fight against the greatest enemy it will ever know. Merlin. Cowritten with the fabulous Blood thirsty animal.


Hunting.

Why did it have to be Arthur's favourite thing? How something only endured for survival in small villages could ever turn into something enjoyable was anyone's guess. Of course it was probably alright from where Arthur sat on his proud white stallion, proving his worth in front of his knights and brining the meat home. But he didn't have to carry all his heavy bags, the rope, the hunting gear and be expected to walk just as quietly as Arthur Pendragon King of Camelot.

It was a beautiful day in the woods and here Merlin was, being dragged out into the woods and told that if he made any noise he would face the wrath of Arthur, personally. Not that this threat seemed to make any difference either way. Merlin was still loud and clumsy as ever and Arthur somehow still managed to catch things successfully. Well, mostly.

The King had led his servant and knights to the edge of a knoll, on the other side of which, presumable waited their prey. A doe they'd been chasing for the better part of an hour, much to Merlin's disgust. The female may well have fawns waiting for her to come back. The prat didn't bother to listen to Merlin's lamentations, too busy attempting to destroy a beauty of nature.

Resigned to watching as the King lined up the killing shot, the sound of nothingness pierced Merlin's ever keen ears. Even Merlin knew that this wasn't good, the forest or woods was always teeming with at least birds and insects. This silence was almost eerie, pricking the skin at the back of Merlin's neck, as if they were being watched.

Slowly Merlin looked up at the ever ominous trees and saw nothing except a few innocent falling leaves. On guard still, Merlin began nervously biting his lip and began to subconsciously get ready for an attack. Arthur seemed to be thinking the same thing too because he had stopped hunting the deer, shoved his crossbow against Merlin's chest and pulled out his ever trusted sword. The few knights that they had brought with them now seemed to make a square around the two men as Arthur put a finger to his lips to needlessly tell his aware servant to stay quiet. Merlin had no intention of disobeying.

All ears focused on listening for snapping twigs, something to alert them to the presence they could almost taste in the air. Nothing. The continuous waiting almost lulled the knights to a false sense of security. Just as Arthur was about to put his sword away, the crashing sound they'd been waiting for sounded through the trees.

An arrow flew past Merlin's head, narrowly missing the top of his ear, instead finding a target on a knight's forearm. Startled and attempting to remove himself from the storm to better protect Arthur from a distance, Merlin stepped back. In those few precious seconds he had forgotten the steep knoll he was on and the stone that lay just where he placed his foot. Unable to stop his momentum, Merlin began falling down the knoll into what he noticed on his dizzying descent as what seemed to be a long drop. Unable to draw breath to cry out, he closed his eyes tightly, bracing himself for the hard fall that didn't come.

Merlin opened his eyes to see the floor inches from his face. Startled, he recognised the buzz of magic in his veins that had instinctively protected him. Protect….Arthur! Arthur needed him! Merlin looked up and vaguely heard the sound of battle overhead. Frowning, he began searching for a way out in the darkness. Briefly, he considered lighting the way with magic. But someone could peek over at any moment to see where he was… Another battle cry from above decided him. Chances were, they were either fighting or dying up there and he couldn't afford for the latter to be Arthur.

"Leoht," he whispered, his eyes flashing gold briefly. Stepping back once more, he lifted his arm to direct the light upwards. His other hand, loose at his side contacted the edge of something. Merlin spun round just in time to see a mirror fall to the floor.

He lurched forward in a clumsy effort to save the falling object, even falling back on his magic to aid him, but for once it proved in vain, for the object remained stubbornly in motion until it crashed into the floor. For an instant, he could see his reflection gaping back at him, his eyes flashing gold back at him before it shattered into jagged pieces.

Blinking in shock and forgetting about his previous mission for the time being, Merlin looked around at his surroundings for the first time. It was a roughly hewn chamber, with nothing contained within it apart from that one mirror. Merlin frowned, his inquisitive nature making him wonder why.

"Merlin, you idiot! Where's that buffoon disappeared to?" Merlin kept his eyes firmly on the shards of the mirror, slightly turning his head to project his voice out the hole.

"Arthur! I'm down here!" he called.

Arthur peered through the darkness, catching sight of a flicker of light at the corner of his vision before it disappeared. The strange flicker of light was enough for him to see the dark head of his manservant who had, in a feat only possibly by _Mer_lin had fallen into a hole.

"Did you have to run into a rabbit hole to hide from the scary men, Merlin? That's fine, just leave us to do the hard work. You just sit back, relax," jibed Arthur, indicating to the knight to fetch some rope from the saddlebags.

Normally, Merlin would have retorted with either a witty comeback along the lines of the few brain cells required for people to bash swords at each other or at least an indignant huff, his attention was focused on the mirror in the cave. Unaware of Arthur's quizzical glance, Merlin kept his gaze riveted on the mirror. It was magic, he could feel it. And it was old. Very old.

Had he kept the light instead of having to extinguish it at the presence of Arthur, Merlin would have seen the image in the mirror. He'd have tried to move away from it, aware of the ominous fact that only one shard retained an image.

In that one long shard remained a reflection of himself with a wicked grin, menacing eyes fixed on the wide eyed innocence of the owner. He'd have been able to sense the magic for what it was and the way that it tugged at his spirit.

But Merlin did extinguish the light. And he didn't see the jagged reflection. So he couldn't possibly comprehend the feeling of horror and foreshadowing that seeped into his bones.


End file.
